


Memoria

by Saber_Wing



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Feels, Head Injury, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Second Person, Romance, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23794108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saber_Wing/pseuds/Saber_Wing
Summary: He must have a name, but you can’t remember it.You can’t remember yours.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 148





	Memoria

You love him.

At least, you _think_ you do. Your head is throbbing in time with your heartbeat, making it hard to focus. But looking at him…it feels good. Even if you _don’t._

And you _really_ don’t. There are thick bandages wrapped around your head, covering one eye. It hurts. You lift one hand to rub at it, but something stops you. Some _one_ stops you. A hand darts out. Closes around yours.

“No, my love. Those have to stay on, okay?”

Love. You’ve never been anyone’s _love_ before. But he looks at you like he means it. Brushes your hair back where it’s fallen over the bandage.

Everything is white. The walls. The bedcovers. There’s something wrong with it. The sterile smell. The antiseptic. These things mean danger. Illness. You think you’ve been here before, or somewhere like it.

You don’t like this place.

The man is crying. He’s holding your hands, and he’s crying. Murmuring through the haze, and the sobs. His voice is thick, broken, and the words are words, but _not_ words. You can’t make them out, and you’re scared.

He kisses your knuckles. Smiles up at you through a curtain of blond hair and a deluge of tears. He has a nice smile.

He’s beautiful, you think. The noble chin. The strong jaw. Blue, _blue_ eyes, the color of a clear summer sky. His lips are full, warm, and soft when you kiss them.

He must have a name, but you can’t remember it.

You can’t remember _yours._

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. You’re not sure what you’ve done, but he looks so sad. It’s not right. It’s not fair.

“Don’t apologize,” he chokes. The words are immediate, vehement. They sound almost _angry,_ and you nearly pull away. But he tightens his grip on your hands. It hurts, but you don’t cry out.

You don’t say anything.

“Don’t _ever_ apologize. This is not your fault. Do you understand me?”

You cock your head, and it swims. _That’s not true,_ you think. _That feels wrong._

An attack. A hard object, crashing into your skull. You cry out. Curl into yourself, because it _hurts._ God, your head hurts, so _bad…_

“I c-can’t…”

He climbs up on the bed with you. Moves the tubes and wires. “Shh….”

He holds you close. You burrow closer. For the first time since you woke, it feels _right._ You belong here, with him.

He has a name.

A dagger of pain slices through your skull. Stabs into your eye.

“Sweetheart...” His voice is soft, tender.

Your lip quivers. “I c-can’t r-remember…”

He makes a soft noise at the back of his throat. Wounded, dismayed. “It’s all right—”

 _“No!”_ It’s not all right. He has a name, God _damn_ it.

He’s crying. The beautiful man with the clear blue eyes. He’s crying, and you’re crying. You can’t see out of the eye you have left.

He pulls you closer – tucks your head under his chin. And you bury your face in his chest, even though it’s on the bad side of your head. Even though it hurts.

“I love you,” he chokes. Voice trembling over every word. “If you remember nothing else, remember that. Okay?

You love him. It’s not enough, just to _love_ him.

He’s everything. He’s…more.

You tell him so. Tucked against his chest, a fragment of yourself. You think it makes no sense, but you tell him anyway. And he kisses the good side of your head. He _always_ knows what’s good for you. Maybe better than you do.

Your head aches. You can't hold on. You can’t remember.

But he loves you.

That’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been feeling a little stagnant, and I wanted to do something different. I've enjoyed second person in the past, controversial as it is, and I loved using it here. Hope you guys enjoyed! Tell me what you thought <3.


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